


make love, not war (use your hands, babe)

by blue_slate



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Joel's still alive but he got sucker punched by abby oops, adventures in gay, i will die with this ship, no beta we die like men, sparring turns into smooching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24985735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_slate/pseuds/blue_slate
Summary: hunting in the woods with someone who used to be your nemesis can sometimes go awry. pent up feelings come to surface, nicknames are tossed, and really, it's just a bunch of chaos.OR"uh oh we're sparring but now we're kissing" fic.
Relationships: Abby/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 212





	make love, not war (use your hands, babe)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killingcve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingcve/gifts).



> this astronomical ship is all thanks to @killingcve aka god. ur a real bitch.  
> this pic went everywhere jfc. plot line where?

“Earlier, during our fight,” Abby begins, shaking off some water. “Your form was off. Your punches were sloppy.” 

“They’re  _ infected _ , Abby, they don’t care about form or sloppiness. If you can punch one, you can punch one,” Ellie retorts, wiping her rag over the barrel of her rifle and trying not to be annoyed by the woman walking out of the riverbank they’ve set up a temporary camp beside.

Abby wrings some water out of her hair, the veins in her arms popping out as she tilts her head to the side. “If your form is shit, you break your hand.” 

“If you’re so good, then why don’t you show me how it’s done?” Ellie snaps, glaring at Abby as the taller woman finishes running her hands through her hair. 

Abby cocks a thick brow, looking somewhat intrigued. “You wouldn’t last a minute.” 

Ellie’s eyes narrow imperceptibly as Abby grooms a hand through her soaked hair. To wash off from the earlier run in with some infected, Abby had taken the liberty of diving into the river to get the blood and mud off. Ellie wasn’t as on board with that idea, however, and stuck with cleaning her guns before they went off again to try and find some deer, or even rabbit. Whatever they could cook.

“Because I’m not as ripped as you?” Ellie prods, and Abby looks up at her, eyes made of stone. She looks at Ellie as through she’s reading one of her many novels, an analytical gaze that makes Ellie feel too seen. Ellie doesn’t like it, and looks away.

“You lack consistency,” Abby says in response, completely unbothered by Ellie’s viper-like tone. 

“ _ You _ lack consistency.” To be fair, Ellie is quick-witted most of the time. Around Abby, she seems to lose all of it. Damn her. Whose bright idea was it to put them together to hunt?

(Joel’s.)

Abby tilts her head to the side, then raises her hands to her hair. She fashions a braid within seconds, and stands up. “Fine. Let’s see what you’re made of, _ hot shot. _ ” 

Ellie is on her feet faster than Abby can blink, her rifle set to the side. Abby crooks a brow when Ellie gets into her fight stance, and she just puts her hands on her hips. The fabric of her pants is still wet from her swim, and her shirt is all but gone. It’s near her pack of supplies. 

Ellie isn’t distracted by the firm grooves in Abby’s stomach, or the one vein popping out by Abby’s hip bone. Or even the one mole near Abby’s belly button, clear in the shining light of the afternoon. Not even the sharpness of Abby’s jawline that demands attention so  _ easily _ is distracting Ellie. 

She isn’t distracted. 

Not at all. 

(She might be a little distracted.)

Abby’s knuckles crack as she flexes her hands, followed by a swift neck crack. The noise of bones popping fills the air, and Ellie just rolls her eyes. Intimidation tactic— Ellie can see that from miles away, yet Abby doesn’t even seem to notice, like it’s all second nature to her. It probably is. She’s a wolf, afterall. Ellie’s just… Ellie.

(Abby  _ was _ a wolf, Ellie has to remind herself.) 

Ellie takes the first swing, testing the waters. Abby easily dodges to the side with a bored, yet playful expression across her face. It’s the most emotive Ellie’s ever seen her. 

“C’mon, Ellie, you’re made of tougher shit than that,” Abby mocks, all high and mighty as she slaps away another punch from Ellie. “All bark and no bite?” 

“I’ll show you a bite.” Ellie feints a punch to the left, then at the last second, simply rams her shoulder into Abby’s bare abdomen. It sends the larger woman off balance, but not for long, as Abby’s hands find the belt loops of her pants to pull her  _ off _ the ground in one clean swoop. 

Ellie kicks, her foot striking Abby’s spine hard enough for Abby to let go. Ellie drops to the ground and backs away, already feeling the soreness in her shoulder.  _ Fuck, Abby’s stomach is hard.  _ Ellie’s eyes drift down to Abby’s abs for the slightest second, her attention catching on the one rivulet of water sliding down between the central divot on Abby’s stomach. 

Abby stoops low to the ground, before launching a flurry of punches that Ellie barely weaves out of. Her punches are calculated down to the nearest second, and Ellie can’t help but wonder if Abby’s only going at fifty percent for their impromptu spar. 

(They should be hunting, but Ellie finds she likes this much better.)

So naturally, Ellie being the shithead she is, decides to push some buttons. She can’t have Abby slacking now, can she?

“You fight like the kids at Jackson.” Ellie grunts as she drives her elbow into Abby’s side. Abby grabs the back of Ellie’s shirt and pushes her down onto the ground. Abby’s leg is like a fish hook, wrapping around Ellie’s legs to keep her pinned down, the bulk of her weight leaning on Ellie’s hips as Abby straddles her. 

“You fight like a shrimp,” Abby spits back, her arms keeping Ellie from budging. Damn her and her muscles. Ellie flexes her arms as Abby peers down at her, and there’s that feeling of being analyzed again, like Abby can see right through her. Ellie jerks her arms, and Abby cocks her brow, a smugness to her grin that Ellie abhors. “I told you. You lack consistency.” 

“You fight like an elephant,” Ellie jabs, and it’s enough for Abby to stifle a snort. 

“Way to insult a girl about her weight.” Abby’s leg loosens up on Ellie’s ever so slightly. It’s barely perceptible, but Ellie notices. Abby grabs Ellie’s wrists, shifting so they’re pinned under one broad palm. The other scratches at her stomach, causing Ellie’s attention to waver. 

(Abby has nice abs. That’s all.)

“Weight doesn’t seem like an issue to you.” Ellie’s gaze flickers to the vein in Abby’s elbow, bulging with effort. 

Abby’s head tilts to the side for a second as she grins. “Never has been.” 

“Yup.” Ellie pops the ‘p’ before jerking her leg upward, driving her knee into Abby to get her off. The element of surprise is enough for Abby to lose her grip, and Ellie slides to the side, before standing back up. “How’s that for a shrimp?”

Abby doesn’t feel the need to stand, if her folding her arms behind her head is any suggestion. She pulls her head forward, and her abs contract to the point where Ellie just feels like Abby is showing off now. “A good distraction. It would work better on a narcissist.” 

“Oh, like you aren’t one?” 

Abby stands up, a dangerous glint in her eyes. A wolf prowling and searching for prey. “Walking a fine line there, Williams.” 

Naturally, Ellie decides to see how far she can go without getting (metaphorically) beheaded. “Just speaking the truth, Anderson.” Ellie puts her hands on her hips. “What are you gonna do, throw me into a tree?” 

(Saying that was a bad idea.)

As it turns out, that’s  _ exactly _ what Abby is going to do. Ellie barely registers being grabbed by the collar of her shirt and pushed against the trunk of a tree until she’s thoroughly held down. Abby’s legs are caging her in, and one of her arms is over her head. 

(Or was it a good idea?)

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat when Abby’s face looms closer. This feels strangely homoerotic for a sparring session, as Abby’s mouth lingers over the shell of Ellie’s ear. 

“Instead of talking so much, use your hands, babe,” Abby whispers, her breath tickling Ellie’s cheek.  _ Babe? _

Sirens go off in Ellie’s head as the word echoes in her brain over and over, and Abby just smirks at her.  _ Babe? _

(Babe??)

“You’re insufferable,” Ellie whispers, her breathing harsh. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,  _ shrimp, _ ” Abby retorts sharply, an edge to her voice that wasn’t there before. Ellie only just notices the heavy cadence of Abby’s breathing, and the drop of sweat coming from Abby’s brow. Or is it river water? Ellie doesn’t have much time to dwell on it as she has to focus on suppressing the urge to lick that drop of water away. 

“Neptune has fourteen moons.” 

“What?” 

(Checkmate!)

Ellie uses the brief confusion on Abby’s face as distraction, and she flips them on the tree. Abby doesn’t put up much of a fight, though— she just seems amused, now, and Ellie thinks they’re long past a proper spar. They’re walking into uncharted territory. 

Abby’s hands rest on Ellie’s biceps, her fingers digging into the muscle, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s pleasant, actually. 

“Triton, Thalassa, Naiad, Nereid, Neso, Proteus, Hippocamp, Despina, Galatea, Halimede, Laomedeia, Psamanthe, Larissa, and Sao,” Ellie recites all from memory, and Abby looks fairly impressed, a hint of a smile on her cheeks. 

“Not bad, space nerd.” 

“Oh, like you can list any of the planet's moons?” 

Abby refutes. “I can.” 

Ellie’s brows raise with disbelief. There’s no way Abby knows the names of any moons. It’s impossible. “Right, okay. Name it.” 

“Earth’s moon is called  _ moon _ ,” Abby says, and Ellie grunts with annoyance. Abby looks all too victorious at the sight of Ellie’s displeased expression. 

“That’s awful,” Ellie says, shaking her head with disgust. How dare she! “I’m appalled.” 

(It’s insulting. It mocks Ellie’s knowledge.)

“C’mon, shrimp,” Abby teases, her hands drifting to Ellie’s shoulders. “There’s not an actual name for the moon. I’m still technically right.” 

(She is, which makes it worse.)

“You’re stupid.” 

“You’re salty.” Abby jests, then she snorts. “Fitting for a shrimp like you.”

Ellie points a finger at Abby, her brows creasing together. “Call me that name one more fucking time, I dare you.” 

Abby’s eyebrow raises slowly with amusement, and Ellie glares daggers. Then, slowly, she says, “What are you gonna do about it,  _ shrimp? _ ” 

Abby’s face is too close to Ellie’s for comfort, her breath barely ghosting over Ellie’s lips. Ellie narrows her eyes as she presses Abby harder into the tree. Abby’s lips purse ever so slightly in response, followed by her hands shifting to grab Ellie’s shirt. 

“This,” Ellie says, then presses her lips to Abby’s. It’s a split second decision that turns out to be one of the best in Ellie’s life. 

It’s urgent— fire cascading through Ellie’s bloodstream and turning her into an inferno. Abby’s grip on her shirt becomes tighter, and Ellie’s flipped around again. Ellie coils her hands through Abby’s hair, the dampness still prevalent from the earlier dip in the river. Ellie can almost imagine the steam coming off of Abby’s hot skin. Abby feels like steel being melted in the forge, and Ellie is the heat that makes Abby burn brighter. 

There’s a muffled groan from Abby as Ellie scratches her nails on Abby’s scalp lightly. It’s a filthy noise that fills Ellie with a hunger that can only be quenched by Abby’s furious resolve. Abby’s hands move from Ellie’s shirt to her jeans, tapping her thigh only once to signal. Ellie jumps, and Abby catches her swiftly, hands locking together to support Ellie’s weight. 

(Not that it’s needed. Abby can squat twice Ellie’s weight easily.)

There’s a coil tightening in Ellie’s core, fueled by Abby’s brutal passion. This is nothing like kissing Dina. Dina was sweet. Considerate. 

Abby is the hurricane that threatens to tear Ellie down, brick by brick, until there’s nothing left. Abby is the gasoline that causes Ellie’s raging fire to explode. And by fucking god, does it feel  _ good _ . 

At one point, Ellie tastes blood on her lips— seems like she bit down too hard. That, or Abby did. Either way, it doesn’t matter much, because Abby is still keen on stealing the air from her lungs like she’s a queen of thieves. Ellie will continue to let Abby do as she pleases if it means she can keep palming Abby’s abs, her biceps, the muscles of her shoulders,  _ everything. _

It’s almost too much to be kept afloat by nothing but the tree against her back and Abby’s strength. It’s intoxicating like a glass of bourbon burning down her throat. 

“You kiss better than you fight,” Abby mumbles against Ellie’s lips, before her teeth are sinking into the skin of Ellie’s neck. Ellie almost snarls, but it’s choked back when Abby sucks on the sweat damp skin. 

(May Ellie burn in her inferno peacefully.)

“What’s the saying?” Ellie exhales sharply. “Make love, not war?” 

Abby pulls her head back for a brief second to look at Ellie. Then, she’s laughing. “You’re dumb.” 

They’re kissing again, and though Ellie knows they  _ should _ be doing other things, she doesn’t  _ want  _ to be doing those things, not when she can kiss Abby like this. Not when Abby is pressing her so harshly into the tree she can feel her spine flattening like a pancake. 

(How did they end up here?)

Just a week ago, Ellie hated Abby. Abby hurt Joel. Hurt someone she loved. Abby had suckerpunched Joel so hard it broke his nose in the name of revenge. Yet here they are, making out against a tree like horny teenagers. 

(Aren’t they, though?)

Ellie’s nails dig into Abby’s neck, and the taller woman hisses into Ellie’s lips, a sound that rattles Ellie to her core. Fuck, she wants to hear that sound again. 

Decidedly, Ellie simply holds Abby as close as possible, and lets herself be swept into the raging tempest. 

  
  



End file.
